


Off Track

by therev



Series: The Holodeck [2]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-29 03:16:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7668082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therev/pseuds/therev
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spock and McCoy meet again on the holodeck. This time it's Spock's choice and it's not quite what McCoy expected. Follows 'Fishing' in the Holodeck series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Off Track

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this around for a while. I'm not sure why I haven't posted it, but today is exactly one year since I posted 'Fishing', my first Spock/Bones. Seems like a perfect time to share this follow-up. Set after STID, before Beyond.
> 
> I know there's no holodeck in TOS and presumably not AOS, but let's pretend. :)

A control panel beeped and lit up eagerly. Spock silenced it with the press of a button and sat in the swivel chair next to Dr. McCoy.

"The academy?" McCoy asked, with the sort of affected incredulity that only humans could display. His nostrils flared and Spock made a mental note of the reaction, but his mental notes on Dr. McCoy almost always included 'nostrils flared'. "I said let's meet anywhere you want and you pick the academy?" McCoy made a full turn in the chair, taking in their surroundings. They were in the observation room of the bridge simulation testing. "I mean…?"

"Perhaps," Spock said, "you expected the Vulcan equivalent of your simulated Earth stream and some activity related to my upbringing?"

McCoy nodded, as if this was obvious. "Something like that, yeah."

"I should remind you that Vulcans do not share the same sentimental nature as--" 

"Okay, okay, I got it." McCoy's brow furrowed to match those flared nostrils. He did this in anger, concern, confusion, and even, Spock knew, in his sleep. He leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head. "So what now? Kobayashi Maru refresher?"

"As we are the only ones here, the exercise would be pointless. In my time as an instructor, I most enjoyed teaching--"

"Am I gonna have to sit through a lecture, Spock? I haven't even had my coffee yet."

"As I recall, Doctor, this was your idea. Now, if you will allow me to finish. During my time as a student and instructor here, I most enjoyed teaching and my daily run."

McCoy waited, then, after a few long moments, "You want to go running?"

"As a doctor you should approve of the cardiovascular benefits."

"Sure, but running is hardly conducive to…" he gestured between them uncertainly, "you know..."

"Know what, doctor?"

"Don't make me say it, Spock,", McCoy said, somewhat deflated.

Spock crossed his arms. "Sport has a long tradition on many planets, including Earth, of supporting camaraderie and friendship."

"Okay, yeah. Football, tennis, soccer, even dancing--not that I'm suggesting dancing--but running?"

"Are you resisting due to a fear of competition with me? You were quite a good runner in the academy. Or has that changed?"

McCoy looked surprised at that but recovered quickly, likely so as not to give Spock the satisfaction of surprising him. "Of course not. I mean, I might not outrun a Vulcan but all things considered--and by that I mean you catching up to a megalomaniacal superhuman with a healthy head start--I'm not exactly holding that against myself."

"Excellent."

Spock stood and, after a moment, McCoy followed, moving quickly to catch up. They walked down a familiar corridor and through a set of doors, into the library.

"Wait, this doesn't belong here," McCoy said.

"This program is designed to my specifications, including only those areas of the academy which I felt necessary for different exercises. Consider this the abridged version."

They walked through aisles of computer terminals, fewer than there should have been, to another door and into a locker room. 

"Boy, you even got the smell right."

"Specificity is important, Doctor."

"Some specifics are best forgotten, Mr. Spock."

They changed into running gear, standing on opposite sides of a row of lockers, and McCoy seemed surprised that the clothes and shoes fit him so well, as if Spock could have erred in something as simple as estimating the size of a man's clothing from observation alone. Or that he might not have simply looked up McCoy's uniform size in the ship's databanks, but, in fact, he had not.

They left through another door that, at the real academy, should have led to an indoor court, but now led to an outdoor track and a foggy, predawn California sky. 

"I guess this is why you had me up so early?" McCoy said, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He did it often on the bridge, Spock had noticed. "So, what? Laps?"

Spock shook his head, then led them past the track, past empty bleachers and a concession stand, to the edge of a wooded area and a trailhead. "The short trail is approximately 10 kilometers, the longer one is double that. I suggest the short trail."

McCoy began to stretch and warm up. "All of that can fit inside the holodeck?" 

"It is merely illusion, of course."

"Is there a short-short trail?" 

"There is a shortcut if you require it."

McCoy sighed then gestured ahead, gave a smile which Spock had learned really meant there was no reason to smile at all. "I'll just follow you."

The dawn was just bright enough to light their path, the morning cool enough to keep them from overheating, the trail soft but dry, the fog dampening the air so that branches wet their shoulders when they brushed past. Spock held back, keeping near enough to McCoy that the doctor could find him to follow, and McCoy kept a steady pace. The terrain was not too steep but neither was it flat and though the doctor had spoken of regular runs on a treadmill in the ship's recreation room, Spock knew that the two were hardly comparable. At the halfway point he stopped, found a suitable dry log, requested two bottles of non-simulated water from the holodeck computer and sat. McCoy caught up moments later.

"You get tired?" McCoy puffed out with some satisfaction, shaking out his legs and wiping the sweat from his face with his shirt. 

"I thought you might require a break." Spock said, and offered a bottle of water.

McCoy frowned, then nodded. "Right. 'Cause you're not even winded. You're not even sweating are you?" He sat next to Spock, rocking the fallen tree and took the bottle of water with a grateful nod. His nostrils really were quite large.

"My biology--"

"Yeah, I know your biology." McCoy uncapped the bottle and took a long draw and caught his breath between swallows. 

The sun was higher but the trees provided ample shade. It was too cool for Spock, even in long pants, but it was accurate to the area and time of year and he had thought that McCoy would prefer it. In fact, McCoy's sweating would seem to prove him right, something the doctor would have surely avoided if possible. The hair at his temples was damp and his t-shirt as well, though that was from the trees. He stretched out his legs, crossed them at the ankles, taking up more space than was really necessary. Human males, Spock had learned, tended to do that.

"Chickadees," McCoy said, smiling up, and then at Spock when Spock didn't immediately respond. 

"Chestnut-backed chickadees to be more precise," Spock said, isolating the distinct twittering from the other bird calls. "Also Bewick's wren, California towhee, and--"

"And a robin!" McCoy added suddenly, seeming pleased with himself.

"Quite right, doctor."

They listened to the forest as McCoy's breathing slowed to normal. "Never was the best at birds," he said, "more of a mammal kind of guy. Although after I joined the fleet I got more acquainted with reptiles. Funny how often that's come in handy out here."

"Infinite diversity in infinite combinations. Your classification system is still very primitive."

"Yeah, barbarian heathens, the lot of us," McCoy said without any real effort at provocation, then plucked a few pine needles from a low-hanging branch. He cleared his throat. "So what's this about you knowing I was a good runner at the academy? Not that I was, really, but I never saw you on the track."

"I would often see you running as I was finishing. What you lack in speed of movement you make up for with strong legs and a long stride. You were much faster than the captain over long distances. Captain Kirk is more suited to sprinting"

McCoy nodded slowly. "Yeah, Jim's a quarter horse, alright," then, after a moment, "You observe a lot, don't you? Just… take it all in?"

"It was my duty as an instructor to evaluate all cadets," Spock said. "But yes, I would say that is accurate."

"Uh huh," McCoy countered, regarding Spock with suspicion, then stretched through his shoulders and breathed in the air deeply. "You know I wasn't so sure about this at first, but the academy… I guess I didn't realize I missed it."

"For myself it is not a matter of 'missing'. I spent much time running in this wood. It is familiar."

"I think that's sort of like missing it, Spock. Same sentiment, anyway. If you weren't at least fond of this place we could have just as easily run the track down there, or any nondescript flat surface. Hell, we could have run around the holodeck without any holos at all."

"That is true, however, a stimulating environment is always preferable."

"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that's all it is."

"Do not mistake me, Doctor, I also find it quite beautiful, though not by virtue of its artistic appeal, as so many Terran poets have esteemed in some unskilled poetry, but for the life it holds, the flora, the fauna, even countless bacteria. Nothing is as beautiful to a Vulcan as the curious improbability of life." 

He turned to McCoy and McCoy was watching him, his face more open than Spock could remember seeing except on a dock at sunset on a simulated stream. There was no furrow in his brow apart from the permanent marks of frowning too much, and the flare of his nostrils was at rest normal. He was, however, very close, and Spock noted that he had not yet shaved.

"However," Spock added, unintentionally and inexplicably quiet, "in spite of this, it is not my preferred aesthetic."

"Right," McCoy nodded, "well I know better than to argue with a stubborn Vulcan who doesn't want to admit when he's being a little emotional."

Spock allowed himself the smallest smile. "If I may use a human expression, Doctor, since when?"

McCoy laughed, patted Spock's shoulder. McCoy didn't touch him as often as Jim touched him-- Jim touched him entirely too often; 1.7 times per day on average over the length of their acquaintance-- and even less since a quiet discussion with Dr. M'Benga which neither doctor had thought Spock was conscious enough to hear. McCoy still touched him more than most.

"So what is your preferred aesthetic, Mr. Spock? Desert, I guess? Hot wind and hotter sand?"

"Precisely, Doctor. Even with you I would not argue that I do, in fact, miss my home planet a great deal."

McCoy shifted, pulled his legs up closer and spoke more softly. "So why here? Some place so different?"

"Precisely because it is different. Unlike the Earth stream of your childhood, the mountain ranges, deserts, and caverns of my youth no longer exist. Rather than attempt to trick myself into believing otherwise, thereby exacerbating and prolonging the pain of its absence, I choose to accept that loss. At any rate, a holodeck would not do justice to its beauty."

"Spock…"

"Also, I felt that you would be more comfortable in this climate."

"You're right. I am, Spock. Thanks." McCoy leaned closer, his shoulder brushing Spock's.

"You are welcome, Doctor."

Something moved in the trees above them, water dripped from the branches onto both of their heads. McCoy looked up, then at Spock, as if he'd just realized they were so close. He stood, making a fuss of stretching. 

"Anyway," McCoy said, louder than before, attempting to, as Jim would say, 'play it cool', "you know what I kept thinking on the way up here?"

Spock stood and stretched as well.

"I was thinking," McCoy continued, nostrils flaring as those eyes went a little wild, like every time he stepped onto the transporter pad, "that I wasn't even sure if these clothes were part of the holo or not."

"And if they are?"

"Well then it would mean we were traipsing around this place in our skivvies!"

Spock started down the trail so that McCoy could not see his smile. The sun was up and the fog was burning off and McCoy stumbled behind him.

"Does that make you uncomfortable, Doctor?"

"Why? Are you saying they're really part of the holo? I mean if the power grid failed and all of this disappeared, well… I'll be honest, you got me up pretty early and I dressed in a hurry and… Spock? Dammit, man. Come back here, Spock!"


End file.
